Day 35: Help

Today was a day of mixed emotions. From unbelievable stifled energy coursing up and down my body, to period cramps and confusion, to bursting into tears out of nowhere to a tub of butterscotch ice cream to encouraging my friend out of a depressed state.

I think everything I've been struggling with came to a head today and needed release. The tears helped in that release. My grandmother sat sa my side through it all, until I was calm and rested. I'm grateful for her.

The butterscotch ice cream was incredible. After two years of barely going near ice cream, the taste was all-the-more relished.

But the best feeling I got today was when I gave my friend some comfort. Even though I haven't been able to meet him yet, our conversations are stimulating and inspiring. Today he admitted to me that he's has bouts of depression in the past couple of years. This was a special moment for me, because it told me he trusts me enough to share something that vulnerable. I sent him words of comfort and told him I've been there too.

Of course I had to add something cheesy:

"Don't worry about finding rhythm in your life. As Gloria Estefan rightly put it, "The rhythm is gonna get you".


In any case, it was comforting to know I'm not the only one struggling. But moreso that I could relieve some of his burdens even for a few minutes. My shoulders eased too.

I think it helps to help others when I am low. Being able to create a positive change in someone's life, also creates a positive change within mine. It made me believe in better days and a better life for myself too. We are human and therefore we are all connected by the struggles of life. And I think it brings us closer because we all want somebody to help us through them. I hope I can do this more often.

Day 34: Flow

Today, I got my period (on time, thankfully). I think it had something to do with the chakra meditation I've been practicing lately. I have begun to trust the 'flow of life's and I guess life is flowing through me.

And that's not all that's flowing. So are lyrics. As of last night, post meditation, a bulb switched on inside me and there were words!

So I did write a chorus with the words "four Paws and a bad limp" and it turned out quite nice, if I may say so myself. But the wonder that I was experiencing today was something else entirely. I was fiddling with my ukulele to figure verses for the Four Paw song, when something else started playing.

There were words, there was Melody, there were chords and a rhythm. I picked up my ukulele and began to sing. And the words flowed through me. At first I didn't understand what I was singing, and for whom. Or from whom. Then I felt like it's a song for me. From the Inner Me. It was surreal.  So I wrote down and recorded the melody for future reference. And it filled me with joy. It was simple, small and nothing spectaular, for a song, per se. But I  felt some blockage being removed and a river of magic flow through me. Yes, there was blood literally flowing down my nethers, painfully so, but I felt a release. And that is reassuring. I want to embrace the flow. I really want to.


The song (I'll put up a recording later):

"Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.

I'm the warmth inside your eyes.
I'm the creases in your smile.
I'm the home you've always dreamed of
Inside.

Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me.
Look around... It's me."

Day 33: Inspiration

I forgot to post yesterday and only remembered when I was almost asleep. I chose sleep. Plus, I can't really recall what I did yesterday. These days, everything feels like a blur.

Today was especially blurry and frenzied. I was mentally restless and agitated and felt trapped in my sluggish body. Therapy helped me ground myself again and meditating always lifts me. I have to accept the process and listen to my body a lot more.

I finally created a small nook in my bedroom for songwriting and other quiet phrsuits. I opened up my yellow notepad (the only one that inspires songs writing) and waited for inspiration. I have many projects that I started earlier in the year that I could finish but I wanted some thing fresh. I asked a friend to throw any thing at me. A topic. A subject line. Anything.

"Four Paws and a Bad Limp". That's what he wrote to me.

Well, here we go.

Day 31: Activate

I went back to yoga today. It was wonderful. My body was sluggish in the morning but I was mentally ready for some muscular activity and I gave it my best shot. My teacher is wonderful. She knows how to work my body and mind in a way that motivates them to try harder. I accomplished more than I expected and my mind and body feel activated.

The real challenge for me is the follow-through. I'm supposed to practice every day and as history would have it, I'm not very conscientious about the follow-through, especially if I've been out of a routine for a very long time. I'm keen to make this my routine and hopefully stick to it.

I'm excited at the thought of returning to Los Angeles in the Winter. But I'm also weary of constant travel and movement right now. Transition periods can really take everything out of you. But that's what's meant to happen. How else would there be place to pack in new experiences?

I sometimes wonder if in my quest for some kind of anchor I have gotten so used to moving around that moving around itself is my anchor? And what I seek I already have, in my ability to adapt to any life that comes my way? I'm not sure. It doesn't settle me. Maybe what I'm looking for is some place to feel settled. I know, partly, that I won't find it anywhere if I don't have it within me. Just like I believe you cannot love someone fully if you don't love yourself first. If there is no love inside, there is no love to give. If there is no home inside, there won't likely be one outside either. Why am I so terrified of feeling at home with myself? Why am I not enough? What stops me from going home to myself? Is it the fear of realising we are all alone and going to die? Is it fear, even? There are many questions I'm impatient to find the answer of. I know all will reveal itself at the right time. I believe that.

I'm in the midst of learning a lesson. And lessons are learnt with ease, said noone ever.

Day 30: Forward

Today marks 30 days (a month) of continuous posts. I must admit this has been hard. And the next 30 days are going to be harder, as my will to post lessens.

But what I have observed is amazing. I have had something to look forward to, at the end of every day, that I am doing for myself, for a better life, that I am holding myself accountable for. I have nobody to answer but me. And that has given me tremendous motivation to continue writing. This has been the one constant, unchanging activity for the last 30 days, and small though it may be, it has given me a sense of stability. And it has given me time to reflect, to pay attention to everything in my day, to be aware of my thoughts and emotions and to practice not getting swayed by them.

As I continued posting I noticed how I began to look for something positive — anything positive to write about that could help me appreciate my self and my life. Some days have been better than others. Some days weren't so inspired. But everyday, the one positive thing that remained was that I didn't give up on myself. Not just yet. Not today.

Tomorrow I resume yoga. I'm nervous because my body isn't as sprightly as I would have liked. I may not even feel refreshed in the morning. I may not even last the class. But I am looking forward to going. I look forward to tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that too.

I'm looking forward.

Day 29: The Pack

I went over to my sisters' house again. It's a comfort to know they live nearby and I can access them anytime I want, in any state I am.

We laughed a lot. Even in my daze, I felt alive again. We are all going through our own personal struggles but that we could laugh at ourselves and eachother despite that is special. I cherish the relationship I share with my siblings, my brother included. After all the hurdles we have overcome, we are finally a 'pack'. We are unbreakable, unshakeable and irreplaceable. We look out for each other, lean on one another and share ourselves fully. I took my time to join the pack: being a loner. But I'm happy and grateful to say that my attempt to trust and lean on this pack has proven successful and has made feel safe and loved.

And what more does one need, anyway, more than love?

To my 'pack'. I'm always with you, for you and by your side.

Day 28: Daze

The ground swims 'neath my feet.
Like vapors aboved a heated car.

I'm still but also restless inside
I'm here but I want to be far
Away.

Blank as a slate
But wordless thoughts
Scribble away in my mind.

I stare at the clock
In front of me
Hoping for time
To move.

Deep breath in, out
Deep breath in... out...
Deep... breath... in... out...
Deep....... breath........ In.......Out.......
Deep....

Day 27: Wheels on the Bus

The rain will lash

Markets crash

Dreams burn to the ground

In the flood

Face in the mud

But the wheels on the bus go 'round.

Gasp! A whore.

She's open for

Anyone around.

Noone sees

The Injuries.

And the wheels on the bus go 'round.

Colors aren't

For colouring now

They're the face with which you're found.

Children play

With hand grenades.

But the wheels of the bus go 'round

The pitied sighs,

Shallow eyes

Vanity astounds.

Clink the champagne glasses again.

The wheels on the bus go 'round.

Hope perhaps for

Better days.

Hands together

End the craze

No will to stop 

And save this town.

So the wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round.

The wheels on the bus go 'round.

Day 26: Bushido

I want to leave you with this thought today: 

"Hakuiki hitotsu ni mo seimei ga yadori" —

"Life in every breath."

Day 25: Busybee

I want to write ONLY positive things today, because I got a lot of work done and I'm fairly proud of myself.

I completed two big steps that take me forward in my visa application.

I'm flirting and chatting with a man who's funny, intelligent, adventurous and light-hearted. And he makes me laugh. Totally what I need. I think we might just become very good friends, if nothing else. I can't wait to meet his dog. 

I snagged a writing assignment for a content publishing company. 400 words per article. As many as I can dish out. It only took me 20 to write one. Guess what's going to keep me busy for the next few days? Oh, I do get paid, but I'm not doing it for that (it's just about enough for cab fare). The work is reactivating my brain, especially because for some reason writing is my art of expression in this phase of life. 

I managed to brainstorm with my sister about her projects and get some insight into my own.

I did 30 mid-air squats today. It could have been yesterday, but I think it was today. Or yesterday. But it happened. 

I released my ex-boyfriend from the hurt inside me. He's human and he did and said only what he knew best. I wish him karma. 

I have begun to love dried figs. Sugar craving re-conditioning achievement unlocked.

This project that I helped my sister with involves me 'acting' in front of a camera for a Web Series. A few years ago, I wouldn't have dreamt of it. Now, it feels natural and I'm being appreciated more than I expected. I've been bitten by the drama bug and am liking the attention and praise.

I also feel blank in my head. Not too many thoughts. It could be the medication. It could be that my mind is just occupied elsewhere - somewhere productive. I like being employed. I feel a sizzle in my batteries. 

Sizzle, sizzle. 🔥

*pat on back*

Day 24: Full Moon

Full moon tonight. I really wished I could go far, far away to a secluded hilltop and howl into the night. Not just because I'm sad, but moreso because it is freeing. Belting out the inner me into the cosmos, the universe, as the moon calls out to me.

Instead, I got extremely agitated with the residual poisonous pesticide smell in my house, which wasn't being pest-controlled in the first place, the wild goose chase I embarked upon in search of medication, which nobody seemed to have or want to give without having it all appropriately accounted for, me getting territorial and aggressive with men who were staring at me from behind in an ATM booth. I mean, it's an ATM booth! Get your own! And stop WATCHING me. I don't think they were creeps. But today just wasn't the day for me. Not to mention slipping and falling in the rain, in front of what seemed like mannequins at the entrance of a building near yet another pharmacy. Good to know you guys had my back, in your heads, at least. Or maybe you didn't see me fall in front of you, struggle to get up, fall again, and eventually crawl to a pole for support. 

I'm grateful that I moved to my cousin's house for the night, was fed warm, simple food, breathed clean air and finally did get a hold of my meds. As I calm down into a zen-like stupor, I look back at the high-octane agitation and realise there really is something about that full moon. Anything that could go wrong, doesn't just go wrong, but horribly wrong in my head. Negativity can be on an amplified high. 

To the men who were in my space at the ATM, you didn't know better, or don't understand the concept of space. I know you weren't creeping on me. If you were, I guess you had a good look and I know if you touched me you would regret it. It's okay.

To the people who couldn't help me with the medication, you looked as much as you could, and it's a hard drug to source. You did your jobs well. Thank you for listening to me, especially during peak time. 

To the drivers who took me all over town, helping me find pharmacies, I'm ever grateful for your patience. 

To the people who could not contain the poisonous pesticide fumes and prevent them from entering our house, I understand now that your olfactory nerves are dead from experiencing this on a regular basis, not knowing that these fumes are harmful. You did not sense the danger and were oblivious. Still, you made an effort to comfort me. Thank you for that, despite not knowing what it was that agitated me. 

To the people who watched me slip and fall and didn't even flinch or show enough concern or help me get up, I guess you didn't want to risk falling, too. I get it. Floors get super slippery in the rain. Save yourself, first. I understand. 

To the last pharmacist who made me wait in the cold air-conditioned shop, agitated and tired, soaked from the rain, thank you for not waiting on me first, and finishing up with the other people, who were there before me. You did sense my urgency, but held your integrity by not breaking the queue. You made the poor man next to me, who had come first,  feel important and special. That made me warm inside.

To the full moon, thank you for letting me howl my eyes out in the safety of my sister's room. I imagine a hill would be cold, isolated and less comfortable to sleep in right now. I recognise your wisdom and salute you for bringing out awareness in me.

🙏

Day 23: Defiant

I don't feel like posting anything special today. It's been a weird and uncomfortable day. I had a moment in the rain but I'm so sleepy yet can't close my eyes that I really don't feel like sharing right now. I don't want to make the effort to find something good today.

I'm only posting this because I committed to writing every day. And for some reason I don't want to give that up. I want this blog to be complete when I heal.

Today I just want to say *#@* to everything and take off somewhere far away in my mind.

Day 22: Too Many Mind

Today my brain feels like scattered pieces of mosaic tiles, strewn across an already uneven ground. Where to look first? What to pick up, what to leave behind? Which colors are brighter? How would I even look at each piece mindfully in one day? And even if I did manage to collect, clean and organise all the pieces, don't I need to level the ground first?

Mottled brain soup, that's what I feel like.

I am, in sooth, over-stimulated right now. Too many events. Too many people. Too many goals. Too many doubts. Too many voices. Too many thoughts. All darting back, forth and every other possible way like busy super-trains.

I'm reminded of this scene in The Last Samurai (one of my favorite films of all time), where Capt. Algren is trying to learn the art of fencing from a senior samurai (and failing miserably at it).

Nobutada, who is watching , as Algren gets beaten down turn after turn, tells him, "....Too many mind."

Algren: "Too many mind?"

Nobutada: "Hai... Mind the sword, mind the people watch, mind the enemy. Too many mind.
(pause) No mind."

This is very powerful. "No mind", is the ultimate state of being, isn't it? To just 'be' in the moment and let the present take over, however it may, knowing you are ready for anything. It's quite relaxing, just thinking about it. To be One with yourself. To be One with Now.

I'm going to let the mosaic pieces stay where they are. I'm going to let everything be. If my mind is scattered and unsettled then so it is. Even unlevelled ground is still Earth I can sleep on.

No mind. No mind.

Day 21: Letter to You

Dear You,

Yes, this letter is addressed to YOU and not me. I want to take this moment to tell you that you are special and magical. There is something beautiful that radiates through you, whether you believe it or see it in yourself or not. I see it.

And when you are in a dark corner and cannot will yourself to get out, remember that you are brilliant and capable of anything and everything you set your mind to.

I know the 'easier said than done' reply. I am not saying I have it all figured out. I'm discovering life too, a day at a time. So even if I cannot tell you how to get out of the dark corner or assure you that everything will be peachy forever, I can say this: you are not alone. There is power in knowing that everyone is struggling with something big or small. And that even if we feel alone or lonely, we are in it together.

I hope this strengthens and comforts you. Know that you are worth the fight, the pain, the struggle and the investment. You are worth every ray of sunshine.

And I love you, as you are, today and forever.

May you be happy.

Tulsi

Day 20: Taste

The smell of buckwheat flour crackling over butter. The cheese that melted as I pressed the fork and knife down to cut a piece. How the white cheese oozed out of small holes in the buckwheat crepe. The velvety touch of aubergine in the ratatoiulle, and dance of herbs on my tongue. The sweetness of caramelized onions. The fields where everything grew, ripe and fresh. The cows that produced the dairy that made the incredible cheese. The love and compassion of creating a wholesome meal for strangers. The smiles of the chefs as my mother watched them cook our meal. The attentiveness of the ladies who waited on us, with a smile, at the end of a long day on their feet. The intimacy between my lips and the cutlery. The tasteful art and the artful tastes. Gentle music caressing me in the background. The creaminess of everything. The food coma. The generosity and care of those who served us. Their large hearts. Dessert on the house. Sweetness to ride home with. The experience shared.

Bliss. Gratitude. Nourishment. Fulfilment. Happiness.

Day 19: Clarinet Concerto in A Major

Today was a giant leap. Today I told my mother it was okay to leave me to heal on my own -- that it is essential for me to go through this part of my journey alone, and to release my past in a safe manner, withoit any residues staining what we have right nowu

This has been a hard decision to make. Not just because she is my mother and mothers want to help (it's in their DNA to feel protective). Not just because my inner demons were in conflict with my outer reality with her, which I had to face everyday. But also because I had become accustomed to that unconditional love I crave so much and I didn't want to let it go. I wanted to feel it just a little longer, like a warm bath you know is going to cool down, so you lay absolutely still so that your body doesn't feel the change in temperature right away. But the bath cools down, and one way or another, you have to get out of the tub or you'll freeze and shrivel up like a prune.

This was hard to communicate and overwhelming for us both. But I'm glad to say our relationship is strong and we can weather through the period apart as well, even though we will both struggle with the change of temperature in the bathtub. I really do love bathtubs. Time to Step. Away. From. The. Ruddy. Bathtub.

As I massaged her feet before she fell asleep, I began to feel scared, uncomfortable and filled with another kind of incapacitating sadness. (I think we've established by now I struggle with depression and anxiety, so any residual "oohs" and "aahs" can squat elsewhere.)

I was recounting earlier today, the great things I've accomplished in my life time, despite struggling with depression or having anxiety attacks. I've been independent financially, lived on my own, had several jobs I excelled at, have educated myself, loved and lost, loved and won, helped others and sought help for myself, created pieces of art, music and literature and... Well, this is enough to get to my point.

In those moments of accomplishing things, of making that first move, the first decision to become all those things, I went back to the source of motivation. It was fear, more often than not. Fear or pain can be great motivators. Ever feel that burn in your stomach? The fire in your belly that launched a thousand bitter poems, some of which sold and made it to some hall of fame? Maybe that's not the best example. But it sounded cool in my head. Heh, I'm beginning to amuse myself.

I thought of major life changing events that made me who I am. The post on Strong Suits makes these more clear. I went back to that thought. Fear of abandonment? Be independent. Fear of poverty? Earn your own money. Fear of being kicked out of the house? Move out and create your own space. Fear of heartbreak? Don't let them in all the way, and leave first. Fear of not being good enough? Be brilliant. Be excellent. Be talented and skilled. Be proud of who you are.

Okay, the results haven't been all too bad, and I'm not complaining about them at all. And there have been some happy decisions too. I'm pretty happy with my achievements and aware of the decisions that limit me. But what I'm realising now is how I motivated myself to get there. I operated out of some great life-changing traumatic experience that pushed me to create a happier and more secure life. Have I been subconsciously seeking despair to move forward? Has it become a nasty habit like popping blackheads on your nose? (Totally unnecessary, by the way, for those who do this ghastly thing)

Now I am faced with something quite extraordinary. My relationship with my family is harmonious. I'm fairly financially secure. I am independent and on the verge of setting out again on my own. I'm on a dating website where I am appreciated, intrigued and entertained. I'm still talented, brilliant, excellent, beautiful etc. But the next step is hard to take. The step to move on. Move forward. There is no burn in my stomach. No fear of abandonment. No traumatic experience that launched a million song (seriously, that ex-boyfriend has had his quota of break up songs, and I'm over it now). There is The Past. And I'll get past it, in time. But right now, there is no hate. No fire. No calamity for me to need to be a superhero.

There is love. Compassion. Happiness. Security. Support. Space. And I realised I hadn't really ever made a decision or big move out of those things. Not nearly enough times to get used to it anyway.

I'm not looking for sympathy. This isn't my sad, mopey story of suffering and I want flowers and adulation. I'm in awe of this process of evolution, through the trials and the triumphs. I'm in wonder of how these thoughts pass through me at different stages of my life.

Coming back to the point, I am afraid to leave the nest I have left so many times before, because this time I don't have to. Nobody is kicking me out or saying I don't belong here or making me feel like I'm a burden. I'm actually leaving with the desire to pursue greatness with strong, healed, brilliantly coloured wings. I'm seeking to flap them with confidence, with pride, with security and with self worth. And I'm at the edge, from where I get lift off, with my loved ones supporting me, standing behind me, even silently smiling and cheering me on, with glowing pride and faith that I can do this. They will miss me but they will always, always be with me, in my heart.

To jump when I don't have to, but can if I want to, knowing I'll either fly or freefall, but I will be loved either way.

That's a big one.

I'm letting the idea sink in, while I listen to Mozart's Clarinet Concerto in A Major (something my doctor prescribed for me today). I must say, this piece does have some magic in it. And it makes me feel like I can glide over hills and mountains, survey the land with the wind in my face and blessings in my feathers. I'm going to hear this piece every night before I sleep. Doc also said I need to stop taking apart every thought I feel and looking beyond myself. Seems to be the order of the week. Ha ha.

To my family, my close friends and well-wishers, thank you for getting me to the edge and being patient with me, till I start to flap my wings again.

Day 18: Shelled

Today's been a busy and challenging day. I managed to step out and be in crowded areas with people. Yes, this does sound silly and you're probably thinking, What? She has trouble being around people now? I mean, she could sing on stage in front of a 100 or more people and roar with laughter in a pub. So what's this new agoraphobic behaviour?

I don't know what to tell you, except it's new and likely to be temporary. I haven't exposed myself so much to even my loved ones and it's very exhausting -- talking about my feelings, emoting, crying, feeling conflicted in what to share and what to censor, who to confide in and who to smile at. It's extremely tiring. And now that I've gotten used to this with a small handful of people, an entire crowd feels like being caught inside a cave with no air. Worse still, I feel so exposed it's like I'm a tortoise whose shell has been ripped off. I've nowhere to hide, take shelter in, I can't scurry away into a corner and I have to wait until the scars heal, bleeding for all the world to see. This would be one of my worst night mares, being seen, being heard, being watched while I bleed my heart out.

But here we are. So I made an effort to visit my sister's today, without my mother. I was nervous and almost turned around when I was on my way, but I gave myself the option to leave if I was self-conscious and uncomfortable. I knew that my sisters would understand and that gave me courage. So I went and met them. And I had a good time. We laughed at each other, at ourselves, at being women in our thirties with tired ovaries,  at being human. It felt good. I'm glad I was bold enough to break away from my cocoon today. I also feel fortified in knowing I am protected and sheltered by my loved ones. They may never replace the home that shell had been, but they've created something special that makes me feel safe.

The climb is harder, as layers peel away, and my resolve gets stronger. My skin and heart are raw, but I'm beginning to believe they will heal and be thicker and stronger soon. Sometimes I long for companionship. For a fellow seeker to climb with me and tell me what his view is like from where he's standing. At other times, I want to be still and quiet, and not exchange a single word or sound with anyone.

I pray for balance. I pray for forgiveness, from the Universe and from myself. This is hard. But I'll keep trying. Making an effort is all we can really do.

May not have a shell anymore,
but by God,
I shall have this mask. 

Now listening to: "Orange Sky" by Alexi Murdoch
https://youtu.be/4FL7c7zcpvA

Day 17: Sleep

Sleep has been the order of the day. And I have no idea where it came from. I had planned to get a massage in the afternoon, but something just told me not to, deep inside. Instead I went to my bed, and played around with my ukulele. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep.

I had a bunch of dreams, different people in different places, me biking down a steep hill in China, and then eating at a restaurant for a break. Being at a festival of some sort with some old teachers from music school. Meeting an old classmate from my first-ever school. There was celebration and adventure. Everything and everyone from different parts or stages of my life came together; I didn't know where to look. 

I woke up deeply rested, half surprised I even slept that long. To have this state of deep relaxation is a luxury and I am grateful for it. 

I started playing the bamboo flute my mother gifted me. It's hard because the holes aren't placed in a symmetrical fashion. They aren't meant to be. And my fingers aren't used to stretching that far to cover them. And a bansuri is harder than a recorder. You have to get just the right kind of lip pucker, if you know what I mean. My mother saw me struggle and said, "Start with one note." And so I did. 

I'm still adjusting to this week. Some plans are set in motion to help me get back on my feet. A routine is being put in place. Some help here, some medication there, some internal meditative work and some external physical discipline. They all sound like old friends I haven't met in a while and I'm wondering if they will remember me and still think I'm the same resourceful, independent, strong, innovative woman I think I am or used to be. Brief breaks can feel like an eternity, depending on the state of your mind. I'm apprehensive, but also excited. I know I have done this before. I know I have beat this before. I know how to succeed. I have succeeded before. It's been a hard fall, recently, but I know I can walk again. You don't just forget to walk, do you?

It helps, especially, when a guy tells you you're cute just for being you, too. Let's not pretend like that doesn't make a difference. (More on that, another time.)

For now, I'm going to focus on my breath. Breathing in, breathing out. And the gap of silence in between. Nothing more. Each day, one more breath. 

Motto: One step at a time. One day at a time. One single note at time. And sleep. Lots of sleep.

Day 16: Indulgence

Today was a day of total indulgence. After a reassuring session of therapy, I took my mother out for lunch to a little French creperie in the neighborhood -- one of the best that I've ever been to in Mumbai. We have so diligently been eating healthy, home food, that today's treat was precious and delectable. Feta cheese, buckwheat crepes, ratatouille, more cheese, salads (okay, it wasn't junk food, but it was more than we normally eat).  It was a sumptuous meal, and I felt grateful for the food, the exceptional service, the breezy outdoor weather and closeness my mother and I shared.

After 'the shift' within me yesterday, I have been pensive, concerned about how to manage different relationship dynamics especially with loved ones as I move forward in my journey in healing.

So today, my mother and I indulged each other. We ate, we shopped (she got me four pairs of shoes, for all of my eight feet), and we walked around the city like two girls in wonder of all the colors and shapes that shifted and glittered around us. We walked hand in hand, being constantly physically connected and exchanging warmth, as we moved forward through the day, knowing things will change soon and we may not get to spend as much time together.

I feel full. Not just in my stomach, but in my heart, arms, legs, shoulders, knees, toes and everywhere in between. There are mixed emotions. I feel somewhat stronger and hopeful. I also feel reluctant to grow up from being a 4-year-old who needs to hold my mother's hand tightly. I'm a little scared to take that leap, despite having done it so many times before. Maybe this leap is longer and higher. I feel overwhelmed with love and attachment to everyone who has shown me compassion. This is particularly hard to contain. And does it even need containment? I'm not sure yet. I suppose a few days of processing is likely and necessary.

But I got four pairs of shoes to wear, while I think it over. Not too shabby.

Day 15: The Shift

18/08/2018

Today has been very special (apart from being my brothers birthday). I have so much to say, yet I cannot find the words. Maybe the details are only meant for me to feel within me and some day I'll be able to share it in words.

I am reminded of the day I met Tata Vega, one of my idols, last year. The voice that sang, God is Trying To Tell You Something, the voice that sang to my heart, the voice of the Universe, who spoke back to me. That day was very important because the Universe sent me a message, a response: "I'm on the right track and I'm going to be okay."

Often, when I'm low or in a dark place I have felt like ending my life or at least praying for death to come to me. I know I sound morbid, but it is what it is. And I know I'm not the only one in the world who thinks like this. Clearly, death hasn't come. So I began to pray for something else:

"Dear Universe, if it is my time to go, take me now, and I will gladly follow you. But if it isn't, please help me. "


Today the Universe spoke to me and held me. I feel full of this cotton pillow softness. I fell into a deep sleep. I felt a shift within me. I felt understood and anchored. I felt known in a way I haven't known myself in a very long time. And even though my future is uncertain, it doesn't matter anymore. In this moment, in the now, I have some purpose, something to think about that is beyond suffering. A roadmap, maybe. Or maybe just an idea to explore. An idea, after all, is the beginning of everything.

I cannot tell you what happened exactly, or who I met or what was said. What I can say is the wind was dancing, it rained, then the sun shone and the leaves rustled. All in the span of a few hours. Nature was happy and rejoiced. And the Universe held me.

I am so grateful and moved. I cannot wait for my life to begin again. I hope this carries me forward. I think it will. Slow and steady, Tulsi.

For you, everyone who reads this, everyone who's going through something, or isn't going through anything but is just here with me and even for those who are far away somewhere: May you be happy. I am grateful for you and your presence. And I love you.

🙏

Day 14: See-Saw

I know when times are hard, it's easy to focus on the hard stuff, the suffering, the woes and pain.

When you fracture your finger, I don't know how many of you will notice the pretty bird singing in the tree outside your window. Chances are you're eyes are closed so tight, with yelps of pain leaving your mouth. I admit, I did not notice any such thing when I fractured my finger a couple of years ago. I did, however, have a beautiful dream the night before about a giant old sea turtle who came to meet me and hold my hand (the one with the unbeknownst-to-me soon-to-be fractured finger). It was magical. I digress.

My point is, we often forget to look beyond the trigger, the immediate cause of pain, the injury, wound, open cut - what have you. I'm aware this happens to me too. The interesting thing is, sometimes I'm able to catch this during moments of pain. And in that moment of awareness, I find I'm left with a choice. Do I want to continue to focussing on this pain or do I want to let other things into my peripheral vision as well? Can I possibly appreciate or even acknowledge the presence of other existences, happenstances, possibly good things around me at the same time I feel this pain? I confess, lately, I have chosen to feel the pain more often than not.

This brings me to the question: "Why?"

I think I want to wallow sometimes. Just cry like a child and not have to think about anything or anyone around me but myself. Babies are pros at it. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I'm no longer one. And there are a world of people around me I have to be mindful of.

Also, when it comes to work, or doing something functional, I'm strangely able to put the pain aside and focus on the task at hand. The same thing happens if someone I care about is in pain or in need of help. Yeah, it might sound like I'm a good samaritan or thorough professional. But I've come to realize I use both those things as a coping mechanism for when I'm hurting or stressed.  I immerse myself in some discipline or the other that has a definite outcome which is proportionate to the effort I put in. Or I help someone in need and in somewhat fixing their lives I feel uplifted. This, in turn, helps me to feel in control and secure, when my emotions are the opposite. Sure, work gets done and people are helped - but what happens when I don't have work, and people don't need my help, but I'm still hurting?

I collapse.

I think what I need to find is balance. Knowing when to focus on myself and not run away from it. To be in the moment and be still. And when to focus on what's around me and pull myself out of the Well of Woes, when I slip in. To make small mental and physical movements and unfreeze. Finding that sweet spot when I am riding the See-saw with my emotions and not being higher or lower than them. Just at eye-level, feeling grounded and knowing that we've got each other. 

Most of all, I need to believe that I can do this myself, for myself, without the aid of work or human distraction.

Tough one, but I'm going give it a shot.

Day 13: Change is Gonna Come

There's an old friend that

I once heard say

Something that touched my heart

And it began this way

I was born by the river

In a little tent

And just like the river

I've been runnin ever since

He said it's been a long time comin'

But I know my change is gonna come

Oh yeah

He said it's been too hard livin'

But I'm afraid to die

I might not be if I knew

What was up there

Beyond the sky

It's been a long, a long time comin'

But I know my change has got to come

Oh yeah

I went, I went to my brother

And I asked him, brother

Could you help me, please?

He said, good sister

I'd like to but I'm not able

And when I, when I looked around

I was right back down

Down on my bended knees

Yes I was, oh

There've been times that I thought

I thought that I wouldn't last for long

But somehow right now I believe

That I'm able, I'm able to carry on

I tell you that it's been along

And oh it's been an uphill journey

All the way

But I know, I know, I know

I know my change is gonna come

Sometimes I had to cry all night long

Yes I did

Sometimes

I had to give up right

For what I knew was wrong

Yes it's been an uphill journey

It's sure's been a long way comin

Yes it has

It's been real hard

Every step of the way

But I believe, I believe

This evenin' my change is come

Yeah I tell you that

My change is come

https://youtu.be/k6YCxXQ6Scw

Thank you, Sam Cooke, for writing this. 

Thank you, Aretha, for warming my heart with your voice. 

🙏🏼

Day 12: One step forward

Today, after a long time, I felt an iota of improvement during my anxiety attack this evening.

I could feel it coming, as my mother was driving us home. I was filled with dread no matter how beautiful the lush green fields on either side of the road were, no matter the breeze from the sea nearby, no matter the peace and quiet of our neighbourhood. The dread reached the pit of my throat and began to expand dangerously. I could feel it and began to take deep breaths. I waited for my mother to park, bit could not leave the car immediately. I needed everything within and around me to be still, including my mother. 

I made small movements, like my therapist taught me, first with my toes, then my fingers. I couldn't breathe. I kept feeling like I'm being suffocated by invisible hands. Tears fell involuntarily from my eyes. But this time, I fought to breathe. I tried to sit up straight to give my lungs space. It didn't help. My arms and fingers tightened up. I didn't scream or cry openly this time. I was focused and determined to breathe. I crouched forward into my lap, folded my hands in prayer, with my thumbs to my forehead and said under my breath, "Help me".

A song started playing in my head. Then another. And I wanted more. I managed to mutter to my mother to sing for me. Anything. It didn't matter. Just sing. And so she did. And as her voice carried through the car and the light breeze passed through my window, my breathing stabilized. I slowly lifted my head from my lap. I looked in front of me and saw the cars dashboard. I focused on its color, shape and design. Somehow, my hand broke loose from it's frozen, contortion position and crawled up to the dashboard. I began to run my fingers along it and breathe better. I looked left and right and began to expand my view. My other hand began to move and I began to sit straighter. I forced myself to look at my surroundings and remind myself that I am *here* and nowhere else. That I am safe in this space. That I am in the present. That I can and will breathe. And so I did. 

As my mother finished singing, I was sitting upright, with my hands, relaxed in my lap. My body was completely exhausted, but that expanding lump in my throat had disappeared. 

I know I need more help, and I am going to seek it. 

But for the first time, I had some control over myself and it gave me hope. 

Also my mother has a beautiful voice and it can uplift the darkest spirit. 

Activity for the day: my mother introduced me to a photo-editing software app called SnapSeed. And I learnt how to use the double-exposure filter. I'm pretty excited about this, because I have a theme for my first music album and this works well within it. 

'Ajna'

Day 11: A Prayer

Benaulim Beach, Goa

May the Universe guide me through this journey and help me walk forward.

For the hurt I have experienced, for the wounds and scars, I offer gratitude for the lessons they taught me. I have been attached to their company, but I understand it is time for us to go our separate ways.

For what I cannot predict, foresee or plan, I surrender myself to You, Dear Sea. I believe in Your wisdom and I know You will envelope me in your embrace and take me where I need to go. I am but a grain of sand in Your current and I will gladly follow You anywhere.

No matter where or how I am, may I always, always, always be able to stop and look in wonder at Your majesty and beauty. 

Day 10: Taking the Suit Off

It's getting harder and harder to post something every day. I'm very raw and emotional and it takes a lot out of me to pen down my thoughts. Thinking them is tiresome enough; writing them down for the world to read is just another hill to climb. I even contemplated giving it a skip today, despite knowing that I have so much to say, and I don't want to give up. Well, here I am again.

So I'm finally going to address this topic I've been avoiding for a while: Guilt. It might take more than one post, but I'm keen to crack the surface.

All my life (up until the past couple of years) I was oblivious to the amount of guilt I've been carrying around. I used to pride myself on not having any regrets, despite the rollercoaster I've been riding since a very young age. I'd say to myself: all these events, people and choices have led me up to this point in my life, and have made me who I am today. And I like me, my life and so -- no regrets. This thought process worked for many years and even helped me boost my self-esteem when things got rough or I was fragile.

Like I said before, curveballs are one thing. Curve-bludgeons are quite another.

But before I go further into the topic of guilt, I need to address another topic, one that will make more clear why guilt has taken centerstage in my life right now.

About 8 years ago, I attended a forum run by Landmark Education. They're a global group that conduct motivational seminars around the world, helping you to find what it is you really want in life, and empowering you with tools to achieve that ideal life. It was pretty powerful and those workshops really did strengthen my resolve to live a more meaningful, wholesome and healed life. It mended a lot of strained relationships with my family at the time and made me feel stronger within myself.

One of the workshops focused on 'Strong Suits'. Strong suits are loosely defined as your strong points, something you excel at or can be noted for, which you use in different areas of your life.
For E.g., the session facilitator asked each of us to list 3 qualities that we thought would encapsulate us as individuals. Three words. Not stories or sentences. Just sum up yourself in three words.

Mine were: 'STRONG', 'INDEPENDENT', 'CREATIVE'. I think these summed me up quite well. My group members came up with their own. When we were done sharing our qualities with one another, our Session Facilitator told us these were our strong suits. We weren't BORN this way, but we had accumulated these skills or sharpened them along the way, to help us cope with life, in a way. We were all surprised and somewhat indignant at first. What did he mean, coping mechanism? Does that mean I'm faking it? That I'm pretending to be creative? That my talents aren't real?

He asked us to take some time to think about the first time we ever adopted any one of those qualities. An instance, an event, something someone said, anything -- it was most likely to have happened in the early years of our lives - somewhere up till the ago of 15 or 16 at best. We really had to dig deep.

And then the memories began to appear in front of me like little glowing bubbles.

STRONG:
I remember an evening in my grandparents' bedroom. I must have been no older than 4 or 5. I was fiddling with my grandmother's writing table and stationery, and out of nowhere my grandfather yelled at me for touching her things. I was so startled I ran out of the room and found a dark corner to cry in. I had never experienced such terror. And my grandfather was a very tall, big man with a booming voice. He could be quite a bully back in the day and everyone feared his temper. I can almost remember the explosion of adrenaline somewhere between my stomach and chest and the immediate impulse to run. That's not the last time I've been yelled at by a member of my family, or been punished for doing something I wasn't supposed to.

Another memory came flooding back: I was 12 years old, when I first registered that I was being touched inappropriately by a man. I had no one telling me what was right or wrong, and no one really knew what had happened at the time. It was something within me that set of an alarm that said, "No, this doesn't feel right. He shouldn't be touching me." And I froze with fear. It took me weeks to muster up the courage to make him back off (which he did). I remember feeling powerless, vulnerable, exposed, insignificant and ashamed for letting it happen and knowing no better. I even believed that I must have done something to deserve it. This is irrespective of the fact that he escaped punishment and I've had to coexist with him for longer than I would have desired. This wasn't the last time a man tried to touch me inappropriately.

I developed a temper at a young age. I began beating up boys and girls at school. I had angry outbursts as a teenager and attempted to 'destroy' people's hearts with my words. I self-harmed, stopped eating and was very destructive for about 2-3 years before I went to college. My rage was uncontrollable. And nobody understood why. In my 20s, I joined a martial arts group and for the first time I felt safe and understood. My rage was channeled into hardcore physical exertion and I became a calmer, but physically very strong woman. I no longer feared being attacked or reprimanded. Nobody could bully or misbehave with me. But I still had angry outbursts - only this time, my ego was my sword. My physical strength made me believe I was powerful enough to destroy people by lashing out at them. And I would. This destroyed me much more than the receiver of my wrath. I still struggled with destructive relationships, but since then have become stronger and wiser. Therapy helped. I became quieter, less aggressive and more contemplative. I made a vow this year never to lash out again in a moment of anger. To respond and not react (unless I'm being attacked, of course). Never to raise my voice again. And I haven't, so I'm quite proud of myself.

CREATIVE:
As a child, I'd always been a bit of a day dreamer. I loved to draw, paint, play music and look outside the window and make up stories. But I fared poorly in school: you know, the subjects that everyone should excel at in order to be a 'success'. I barely followed math. I loathed physics. I like chemistry because I got to mixed things and play with fire. I liked biology because I got to draw intricate diagrams of plants and insects. I wasn't physically fit and wasn't allowed to play inter-school sports because I'd have to wear shorts as part of the uniform. I didn't fit in with the popular kids. I wasn't a smart student, I wasn't an athlete, I wasn't a theater performer and I used to stammer when I was nervous. I was bullied a lot for 'being stupid', 'being fat', 'being ugly' (Yeah, I know, Assholes). But I excelled at Art, Music and Languages. I was one of the only two students who were allowed to remain in the school choirs (both Indian and Western Classical) right up till I graduated. I used to carry my own art kit to school everyday, and help students with their projects. I drew caricatures of my classmates and even the school's principal asked me to make one of him, which he proudly framed in his office. I became the reputed artist and musician. And it suited me just fine.

It was in high school and college that I discovered that I'm actually quite intelligent, when I excelled in all the other subjects as well and took part in several inter-collegiate competitions. And that I'm not ugly or fat, after all, when boys began to fall in love with me. But that didn't matter, because these things weren't my USP. My art was. My music was. So I took them up as hobbies And while I spent years as a magazine journalist, writer, editor and many other things, my heart finally pulled me back to where I was truly happy -- in my art and my music.

INDEPENDENT:

I realised very early in life that money makes the world go 'round. And that you cannot love on an empty stomach. Growing up in a joint unconventional family that had many members with an incomplete education created a lot of tension when it came to paying bills and taking responsibilities of running a household. There were egos, tempers, fights and humiliation. My parents decided it was time to move out, my brother and me in tow. I was 15, when the world I grew up, the universe I knew, was ripped apart and I was uprooted and taken to a different country to start a new life. Sure, new adventure, I told myself. But I lost my feeling of 'home'. That was the first of many moves, to the point that in my 20s I got used to the idea of living in one place for only 2 years, until it was time to move again. Money was a strain throughout, and it tore my family apart. I soon realised my freedom lay in my own income. I started working at the age of 19 and my father opened my first bank account for me (the best thing he ever did). Once I began to earn money, things changed. I didn't need permission for a lot of things. I didn't need to ask for an allowance. I didn't need to put up with the lectures of "we don't have enough money". Because I did. I didn't need anybody to fend for me or provide for me. I began to support myself, through trial and error. It made me feel safe, having money of my own. I moved out of my parents's house at 23 -- something that is culturally unheard of in my community, for an unmarried woman. It was hard, but the best thing I ever did.

I'm still moving around, but I know that no matter where I am I will always land on my feet and I will never go hungry or worry about where I'm going to sleep for the night. Sometimes it makes me detach from a place or people very quickly. Sometimes, it's necessary, but when it isn't, I do feel bad.

When I understood these strong suits, I realised that they were an armour I built around my skin to protect myself. To protect that child who had suffered different traumas at a young age. I began to pride myself on having them. I began to identify myself as these qualities. I forgot about my fragility, my humanity and my innocence. I became hard and impenetrable. I was friendly and extroverted but few people could gain access to the vulnerable me. It took me a while to remember that the little child is still in there somewhere. And that I didn't have to let go or undo the armour to find her. My travels around the world, interactions with people -- other seekers like me -- have helped me to understand this.


This brings me to now.

Things had set in motion around late last year, when some incidents triggered a snowball effect in my introspective journey. A lot of repressed trauma and memories came to the forefront. I had been going to therapy regularly and I began to acknowledge their presence. This hit me quite hard and threw me off balance. Added to this were significant life changes, geographical shifts and relationship turbulence. While I feel broken, damaged, scared, fragile and unbelievably terrified of letting people see me, I also am glad I am facing everything, with the help of a therapist and a loving family and supportive friends. I think that's just good grace I've earned over time and I'm grateful.

But with this crashing down of my armour - the strong, independent, creative woman who doesn't need anybody to take care of her, who always finds a solution to any problem, who can survive anything - has added a considerable amount of shame and guilt on my shoulders. So I'm going to state everything I feel guilty about and hope that in this declaration, it's out in the open and can finally leave me:

I feel guilty because I cannot carry myself physically forward.

I feel guilty for not having the wisdom, strength or tools to protect myself as a child.

I feel guilty for not having the courage to say 'no', when I wanted to.

I feel guilty for the rage I have felt against my family for not protecting or guiding me when I needed it most.

I feel guilty because I couldn't make my last relationship survive the tough times.

I feel guilty because I'm relying on my parents to support and love me and hold me up when I can't stand.

I feel guilty because I feel that I should be doing this for them.

I feel guilty when my mother hugs me even when she has a backache.

I feel guilty when I cannot let my father see me cry or when I'm vulnerable.

I feel guilty when I have an anxiety attack and my body shrivels up and contorts and I cannot breathe, and I cannot snap out of it right away.

I feel guilty when I cannot meet my friends and tell them how my life is going.

I feel guilty that I do not want to be seen, even when everyone is worried about me.

I feel guilty I cannot be there for my siblings when they are struggling with their own problems.

I feel guilty that I cannot change or improve my situation today, this minute, right here, right now.

I feel guilty that I couldn't control my emotions when I wanted to.

I feel guilty because I lack patience, and it takes patience to acquire patience over a period of time.

I feel guilty that I put my body through so much stress, anxiety and worry for the past year, that when it gave up on me, I was frustrated with myself. (I'm really sorry about that, Tulsi. I promise to make it up to you.)

I feel guilty that I am spending my life savings on more education, living in a country I'll have to struggle to belong in, rather than saving for a secure future (if that even means anything, really).

I feel guilty for allowing myself to believe in promises of love, when deep down I knew it was a long shot when the man just lies to himself, so how could he even know I was The One?

I feel guilty for not being strong enough to support the man I loved, when he was being inauthentic with himself and wanted to be validated, and stood up for the truth instead (I will get over this one quickly, I assure you).

I feel guilty for not being able to be mentally and emotionally stable enough to face my family and friends, to smile and laugh, to feel normal and live a healthy, active life just yet. I'm afraid they will lose patience with me.

I feel guilty when I can't go up and down stairs because my erstwhile strong legs are in so much pain, and my mother has to bring me dinner.

I feel guilty that I cannot find an innovative way to end suffering in the world, that I cannot heal everybody, that I cannot save everyone.

I feel guilty now that I have realised I'm not a superhuman.
(But I've also come to realise that being human in itself is a very powerful thing -- which very few people recognize and practice in their lifetimes)



I'm blanking out. That probably means my List of Guilt is ending. If I remember more, I'll vent them in the next post.

I don't know if my guilt stems from the possibility that my strong suits failed me. Or from the likelihood that I don't need them anymore but am not sure the world will accept me as me. But then I imagine a world that doesn't accept me as I am, isn't the world I'm meant to live in. Is it then the guilt of wanting to shed the suits and still be considered those things in my own head? Is that even possible? Not sure yet.


I spent most of today in bed, deep in thought. I didn't do much else. So I want to end this post with a positive thought I read online.

"We can all practice beginning anew. 

We can always start over."- Thich Nhat Hanh

Day 9: Remembrance

(This post is a day late because the Wi-Fi disconnected and I had to wait for it to get back, so technically this post was written on August 12, 2018)

Today it rained. Today it poured. Today, Mother Nature took a cloud and let it rip. And I finally got my period. I haven't ever been this happy to see blood. 

On our way to the clay modeling class, this evening, my mother and I encountered an accident on the road. While we couldn’t stop the car half way, I managed to get a good look. It was a dog who had been hit by a car or bike and was lying on the road, bleeding to death. I could see its head had suffered some serious injury and a puddle of bright red blood escaping it. His ears twitched and his eyes were closed. He was dying. A man, someone I assume to have known who this dog belonged to, was trying to figure out a way to help him. He poured a little water to cleared the blood. In the distance I saw another dog from the area rush to its side. 

I have never been this sad to see blood.

In this swift passing-by, I felt a pang so deep. Something in me connected with something within that dog. And I felt very sad. I felt powerless and immobilized. I could hear a voice in me telling the voice in him: “Shhhhhh… Shhhhhh… I know you are in pain. I’m sorry this happened. It will be over soon. Don’t be afraid. I love you and I will remember you in this life. I’m sorry this happened. Let go.” I wept in the car as we drove toward our class and prayed for forgiveness for his suffering. 

In class, today, we learnt a new technique called ‘slabbing’. This is literally flattening out a prepared piece of terra-cotta such that it is a flat slab, upon which we can either create a design, or imprint upon. My mother and I both chose to imprint leaves on our slabs. The instructor swiftly moved to the tree near by and plucked some giant leaves. It pinched me, when he plucked them, and the one I got was already dying. I was reminded of the dog and said a silent prayer for this leaf. He offered to give me a ‘fresher’, ‘prettier’ one. But this was the leaf I wanted work with. She was beautiful, half lush, half decaying. And I imprinted her onto my slab of clay, immortalizing her memory as she would eventually wilt away. 

Mom's tray

The purpose the slab is to create textures and designs for functional items (or just pieces of art). The instructor gave us several options - a tray, a pencil holder, strips of ribboned clay in an unusual design. My slab wasn’t ready to cooperate with these ideas. My mother made a beautiful tray with her slab, along with a leaf imprint. It had her trademark unconventional style of offbeat symmetry (if that makes sense). With mine, I chose to let my intuition take over. I let the edges fold in, without leveling them, without adding symmetry. In the remaining area aside from the leaf print, I made a round depression (where I had originally planned to add a mirrored glass) with a stencil. Everyone seemed to want to make it a tray for drinks and food. But I wanted it to be special. 

And then I remembered that I have been meaning to buy a sound bowl for meditation. This would be my platform to keep it. So that I may remember this leaf and the dog, and I may pray for their souls, for mine, and for the universal energy that brought us together. 

How it rained, today. 

Day 8: Eight Laps

I wanted to write a post about guilt today, but I've had a major anxiety attack this evening and have zero energy to introspect at the moment. Safe to say, a load was lifted, but another one took its place. I'm dealing with it and will address it soon.

Today, I did 8 laps and a 45-minute meditation session in the pool. I befriended my chakras, and told them it is safe to blossom. It felt wonderful.

I also went through the last two years of music I have created, sung or been a part of and remembered that I am gifted. It felt good to see myself sing and smile and fearlessly emote through music. I feel blessed and fortunate that I have been chosen by the universe to channel and spread this beautiful energy. May I always be worthy of the music.

I like how my face glows when I'm in love. I hope I can feel that glow again some day. 

Day 7: Letting Go

Why is 'letting go' such a battle? By 'letting go', I mean letting go of everything: hurt, betrayal, anger, pride, insecurity, past words, past relationships, anything and everything that no longer serves a purpose in my life and yet plays a front-and-center role in it. I think it goes deeper than just letting go of these things.

Letting go means letting go of familiarity. Even if they're yesterday's jeans, I've worn them enough times to know what they feel like and whether I consciously choose it or not, I'll be more comfortable wearing them than throwing them away and getting a new pair. I've already adjusted to their shape, to the torn pockets, to the tight buttoning and faulty zipper. I've found a way around them all, and have been able to coexist with the familiarity of old jeans. But the truth is, I've outgrown them and they no longer keep me warm or fit my body. Hard to part with old jeans. Now, imagine parting with old stories, old love, bitterness, unfinished romances, unsaid words, scars that have almost begun to define you, and so on. I mean, without these, I'm a blank slate. I have no beginning and no end. I have no story. And I'm left with now and here, and what I want to do with it. It's terrifying, letting go. Even though it is the ultimate goal. It's terrifying.

Who would I be then? The girl who met those people? The fighter who fought those battles? The woman who fell in love or out of it? The worker who never gave up? The body that did, when I pushed it over the edge? The heartbroken crumple who aches to be loved? The child who constantly wants to go home, but doesn't know where that is?

Letting go would mean I'm no longer any of these. I'd be me, plain and simple. And whatever I choose to be, henceforth. I think the stories that have accompanied us so far, become like companions, familiar shoes that we walk with every day, our favorite blanket to sleep with, our poison of choice, and our best friend. Remember, we also take pride in the things we've conquered/ accomplished/vanquished/rejected, however brutal the struggle was. Pride is a tough one to check and let go of. Oftentimes, we aren't even aware of how governed we are by our pride.

It's heartbreaking saying goodbye to the past. But that's exactly what will set us free from it. It is the eternal struggle we humans face in this limited period of time called life. We're moving uphill and our journey can  be either tougher or easier, depending on the amount of baggage we choose to accumulate along the way.

Operative word: "Choose"

Letting go also means no control. This is a big one. I can guarantee that 90% of whoever reads this post is terrified of losing control. No, I don't mean getting drunk at a party and dancing on the counter. Not that kind of losing control. I mean letting go of this idea that we have everything under control in the first place. That our lives will turn out the way we planned because of a series of actions we undertake in a calculated manner. Ha! The only thing that is guaranteed is that plans don't necessarily turn out the way they were meant to. That anything that can go wrong, just might. That you may find happiness where you least expect it. That your dreams may  cometrue but in the most horrific way possible. Change is constant and inevitable and if you don't catch that train, you'll be stuck on an empty station, until the station itself disappears and you have no ground underneath your feet. Nothing is in your control. Except the choice you make to cling to an illusion of control.

I'm afraid to let go. But I have moments when I can surrender myself to Nature and the Universe and I feel protected and secure, knowing they have my back. A year ago, I met someone special in a very unexpected place. We hit it off and there was a special energy between us. But in that time, we were both struggling with our own histories. And we couldn't get past them. I remember going to the beach one afternoon and going straight in to the Ocean and closing my eyes. I surrendered my heart, my fears, my desires, my everything, my whole being to Her. I prayed for support if he was someone who's meant to be in my life. And if he wasn't, I prayed to be released from the desire of him. And it helped me to cope with the changing situation at the time. It helped me to understand that nothing is in my control, so when I gave up the 'illusion of control' or my tendency to 'overthink' or 'micromanage' my feelings, I was a happier, freer person. I had all the space, time and freedom to love unconditionally, without desire, without expectation, without judgment. I still think fondly of him, grateful that we met, hoping he is happy wherever he is, irrespective of whether we see each other ever again.

But this hasn't been easy for me to practice regularly. I have had the opportunity to experience total surrender and its rewards, but it takes a lot out of me to actually do it all the time.

I guess it starts with asking myself: what is it that I want? Really?

I haven't thought of an answer yet. Not fully. There are words and ideas, but a full sentence, a full list of what I really want - I'm afraid to consider it. I'm afraid to manifest it, only to lose it.

I guess my fear is losing what matters to me most. Everything ends, doesn't it?

Haha!
As I write this, I'm reminded of a conversation with that same person I mentioned earlier.
We were discussing relationships and he said something along the lines of, "What's the point? Because all these relationships go away in the end."

And I said to him, "What's the point in living, then? We're all going to die anyway."
I also said (and I think this answers my question to myself), "... a month or so ago, I was dealing with unbearable pain caused by heartbreak. But even in that pain I knew that one day I will love again. Feeling love for someone is worth every trial and heartache. Love is the point of everything."

I don't have a conclusive end to this post, except that in remembering what I said to this person, I am reminded about what I seek and why I want to let go of all that baggage.

To make space for love, love, and more love.

Quando a mare baixar
Vai lhe-visitar
Vai fazer devocao
Vai lhe-presentiar
No mar
Mora Iemanja,
No Mar
Mora Iemanja
('Rainha do Mar' - Carolina Soares)

Day 6: Kiri-kiri

Today was a very busy and eventful day. And I was looking forward to writing about it tonight. But after a long time, I had a massive breakdown in my bedroom. 

I couldn't hold it in any longer, and screamed and sobbed my heart out into a pillow, while my mother sat next to me. All the anger, hurt, frustration, fear, sadness and pain just tumbled out without warning. It felt like the earth was shaking beneath me, and I was caught in a hurricane. All the feelings I was trying to distract myself from, suppress or rationalise in the hope of being a 'better human being', just raced out of my throat and into the universe. It was a cry from so deep within me, what came out felt like it made straight for the core of the earth, if you can imagine it. My mother let me vent. She believes it's better to let it out than keep it inside. I sobbed for every ache in my body, my heart and my soul. I cried like a child and begged my mother to never leave me, never die on me, never stop loving me (all the things a child is afraid of). In those 15 minutes, I became a 4 year old and she held me so tight, I felt like I was glued to her. It was the most secure feeling I have felt in a very long time. 

When I calmed down, I lay my head in her lap and sniffled. She ran her fingers gently up and down my back. This is something she used to do to me and my brother when we were kids. It's strangely soothing and relaxing and even though I'm easily tickled, this makes me feel light and sleepy. She calls it, 'kiri-kiri'. I feel blank now. 

So tonight, I've composed a tune on the ukulele I bought earlier today. It's the music that plays in my head when my mother runs her fingers up and down my back. My first time on a ukelele. Happy notes. Just what I need. Let's see if I can build on this tune over the next couple of days.

Kiri-kiri

An Ode to my Period

I waited as the clock struck twelve, 

With bated breath and crampy thighs

But Aunty Flo had other plans

And left me dry, with tears in my eyes.

I know I've been a tense little beast

And ignored the alarms to rest

I'd hoped this time, she'd give me a pass

And just add extra soreness to my breasts.

But it's wonky, without the crimson tide,

No surf is up, I'm hurting inside.

I know she's in there, tapping her foot,

Taking her sweet time to arrive.

Dear Flo, I miss you and your brilliant red

I miss the cramps, I miss the dread

Of leaving a mark, of feeling I've stained

Of feeling my bones are made of lead.

I promise I'll be a good little girl.

Self love and healing: I'll give it a whirl. 

Just come back and you will see

That you mean the world to me.

🌹

Day 5 - Gettin' my hands dirty

I signed up for a clay modeling workshop at Carpe Diem, Majorda. It goes on for 5 turns and each turn is 2 hours of learning how to work with clay of different types, understanding techniques and glazing and firing my own clay masterpieces!

I'm always ready for any artistic activity that gets my hands dirty. Today, we worked with terracotta. It's not very different from regular (gray) clay, and is more budget-friendly. Our instructor, Ramdas, made all the kneading and fixing look so effortless, we were in for a surprise when he assigned us our own lumps of clay to prepare for modelling. There is an entire process that precedes the actual modeling part, which I didn't know about. Pretty interesting how even the smallest air bubble in a lump of clay could cause your clay model to explode inside the kiln. Pretty dramatic, how he described it, too. 

Our technique for the day was 'pinching'. We each had a round lump of clay to hollow out by pinching evenly at the sides. Once we hollowed it out into even pieces, we joined two halves back together to make a hollow circle. After smoothening it, we were ready to design our masterpieces.

I decided to make a baby owl, which I would use as a tea-light or baby candle lamp. It was quite an intricate process but I was too enamoured by all the tools, the unlimited clay, and the endorphins soaring through my body. My mother also participated and was making her Frida Kahlo Pig curio.

There was a third lady, who as soon as she joined the class began to whine about how she would have to cut her nails to continue the class, and how she didn't want to hollow the clay, or make simple animal designs. She was adamant in making a traditional diya (lamp) with atypical patterns. When she saw what my mother and I were making, she whined that she wanted to do what we were doing. She just wasn't satisfied. She kept eyeing my mother's clay model and at one point I was worried that she would walk over and just shove my mom's work off the table to sabotage it. There's always ONE diva in every class I've attended. It's inevitable. I felt sorry for her. She wasn't able to expand her mind beyond what is 'safe' and 'pretty'. We are so enslaved by our fear of failure or 'ugliness' that people can spend an entire life not taking a risk. Ugly isn't bad. Neither is failure. Like Ramdas said, "If you mess it up, just start over with another one." Simple.

Ramdas and the owner of the workshop, Daegal, were very happy with our progress and kept taking photos. I loved the entire property itself, which is an art gallery cum coffee shop cum gig venue cum workshop space. I love the name -- "Carpe Diem". I am so excited to go back for the remaining sessions. 

My father was the official photographer of the evening, and while he didn't want to get his hands dirty, he kept himself occupied by documenting our entire workshop with his camera. 

I appreciate how patient he was, while mum and I worked on our pieces. 

 

For dinner, we went to Da Tita, an Italian restaurant in Majorda, which is known for its clay-oven pizzas and authentic Italian cuisine. I have never eaten more delicious pizza, greens or pesto bruschettas anywhere outside of Italy. The parma ham and pepperoni pizza was delectable. Not to mention the panacotta and tiramisu for dessert. The owner of this restaurant is an old Italian chef, who trained a local chef to cook authentic Italian fare. He even flew her down to Italy several times to experience the tastes and flavors of local Italian cuisine. I could almost smell the olive trees and rosemary bushes in Sorrento and the cheese factory in Meta. The parma ham reminded me of Prosciutto e Melone.

I had woken up today with disturbing thoughts, tears-inducing pain in my abdomen and a general sadness that I've almost gotten used to by now. But I knew that things would be better as the day panned out. I've begun to believe that despite hardships, I can have a good day, create something beautiful, meet new people and share stories, and be loved. Knowing this gives me more strength to cope with pain.

Today was a very fulfilling day. I am excited and motivated to create more art. (Secretly hoping Daegal, the owner, likes my artwork and decides to display or sell it at his gallery).

Amen.

(To know more about Carpe Diem and their various workshops through the year, visit their website: http://www.carpediemgoa.com/ . There are some incredible pieces of art there, not to mention delicious coffee and friendly dogs)